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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23921125">Proud</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room'>Control_Room</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Big Picture [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bendy and the Ink Machine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Coffee, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, Gen, Gossip, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Pride, jewish terms, soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:48:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23921125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Buddy is glad to know Joey is proud of him. But does he really have to say it at least two times a day?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joey Drew &amp; Buddy Lewek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Big Picture [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1254296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Proud</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Have I told you I’m proud of you?” Mr. Drew’s voice cut into Buddy’s ruminations. “Because I’m very proud of you, kid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You tell me that at least twice a day, sir,” Buddy smiled up at him, putting his pen into its stand. “I don’t think I’d need that much reminder.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Johan tapped his chin, then poked Buddy’s nose. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>say you do. S-so there. I’m proud of you, Daniel. Keep up the good work. Or take a break whenever you need.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Mr. Drew,” Buddy replied, feeling warm in his heart. Johan walked out of the room waving a hand behind himself in goodbye. After drawing a few more frames, Buddy decided to head out and perhaps meet up with someone for a coffee, maybe study with Grant. Maybe both. He went to the break room, finding Jack there, talking with one of the Flynns (Buddy could never get them straight). “Hey, Jack, hey, um….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled sheepishly, and the Flynn chuckled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Marvin,” he filled in for him, and pointed at a tattoo on his neck. It was a cat. “That’s how you can tell me from the others. Or this-” he took out a deck of cards, and did a small trick. “I’m the ‘magic’ one. Anyways, Jack, isn't it tragic?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, god awful,” the lyricist answered, shaking his head. “Poor man. You’d think that a letter from your parents would be something nice. Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not what?” Buddy inquired, his curiosity peaking. Jack and Marvin exchanged a glance, and Jack spoke softly, “I don’t think this is something you should hear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aw,” Buddy sighed and pouted, then pointed at the coffee maker. “Is there enough left in there for two cups?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d say so,” Marvin mused, and poured it into two mugs - mugs that Johan gave to their pub room, very obviously, as they read little positive quips. ‘You’re doing great’, ‘Treat yourself’, and other little things. Those were the ones that Buddy found himself holding, at least. He thanked them, and slipped out, but paused right outside the door, hoping to catch a more of their conversation. He could make out Marvin talking, barely. “It’s a real horrible thing they did. I know he’d never admit it, but he is above us in rank, and they made him feel worse than dirt with that letter. I wouldn’t send it to me worst enemy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Buddy heard footsteps approaching, so he quickly made off to the elevator, and just in time, since the one coming was Ms. Lampbert, and while he liked her, she could be nit picky over seeing him standing around, heaven forbid eavesdropping. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He entered Grant’s office after knocking with the side of his shoe onto the doorframe, and Grant smiled at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, hello there, Daniel,” the older man asked, taking the coffee with a nod and smile, whispering the blessing (loud enough for him to reply to). After taking a sip, he leaned back and gestured to the second chair. “What brings you here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing particularly, just wanted a break,” Buddy replied, shrugging slightly. He scooted his chair a little closer, peering at the desk and all the numbers jotted on so many papers. His eyes widened as he marveled over the sheer complexity of all the equations. “Woah, that’s so many problems. And you do all of them!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, study gematria well and your knowledge of numerics would grow very quickly, with only minor frustration,” Grant chuckled, tapping his pencil on one of the pages. “Mr. Drew offered to help before, but his math skills were rather abysmal. Well, not so awful for someone who never finished high school. Now, he is better with math, but he prefers to avoid it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Drew never finished high school?” Buddy inquired, his eyebrows raising with his surprise, and his jaw slackened. Grant wagged a finger in his face, and warned, “Now, don’t you get any ideas, young man. Your mother put a lot of time, effort, and money into putting you into that Yeshiva, so don’t you dare think about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aw, man,” Buddy ‘scoffed’, his grin denoting his jocular attitude. “I’m just surprised, is all. But, why didn’t he finish? He loves learning, so… why? What would be the point?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He wasn’t much older than you,” Grant’s pencil ticked against his chin. “He was actually the same age. It wasn’t his choice, honestly. But that’s not my story to tell, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Buddy sighed, sinking into his seat and sipping his coffee. He wrinkled his nose when the bitterness hit, but let it sink on his tongue. A thought struck him, and he grinned. “I heard some people talking about Mr. Drew, and they said drank a lot at the start of the studio. Could you imagine us being drinking buddies?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chas v’shalom,” Grant scolded. “Johan would no sooner cut off his own hand than offer you a drink, let alone drink </span>
  <em>
    <span>with </span>
  </em>
  <span>you. He’s not so dense to do something like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was only joking,” Buddy retorted, the cowered under the glare Grant shot towards him. “Sorry. Bad jokes. I shouldn’t’ve said that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t ever joke about alcoholism,” Grant apprised him. “And especially not Joey’s. It took the poor man a long time to get sober. It was also a mental thing, you know. His father instigated it onto him, and we can’t judge him on it at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His… his father… his father made him an alcoholic?” there was the ghost of the smile on Buddy’s face, incredulous but then slipping entirely as he realized Grant was serious. “No. No way. Mr. Drew’s father? Don’t we say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree? Mr. Drew’s such a good dad, how… how could that be?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grant shook his head, frowning. His foot tapped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not my story to tell,” he repeated, raising a brow. Buddy sighed, knowing he would get no more information from the anxious accountant. He pulled out the study books from the drawer in Grant’s desk, took one for himself and gave the other to his teacher. Grant smiled slightly. “Ah. Now, where were we? Found it, right here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the midst of their studies, Grant’s watch beeped. He looked up at his schedule and apologized to Buddy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a meeting with Mr.s Drew and Stein right now,” he explained, and put away their books. “We can study more tomorrow, alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Mr. Cohen,” Buddy smiled. “I’ll go back to work, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not twenty minutes after seating himself at his workstation Dot showed up, and accosted him with the latest information the had garnered from all the studio members, from Willy and Shawn sneaking off in the middle of a meeting, to Allison shattering glass from hitting such a high note, to some BendyLand workers having a pillow fight with some of the ride cushions, resulting in one of them falling off a ride and getting caught by Benny, and thus had to retreat to a private area to deal with fluster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about you?” she asked, breathlessly, her small smile sparking the dimples on her cheeks. “Learn anything new or interesting about anyone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, not really,” Buddy admitted, half lying, but Grant’s words repeated in his head, not his story to tell. Joey poked his head in, waving with a smile, and he remarked before leaving as quickly as he arrived, “Proud of you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why does he do that?” Buddy questioned, furrowing his brow, still looking at the now empty doorway. Dot made a questioning noise, and Buddy turned to her to explain. “Mr. Drew always tells me he’s proud of me. I don’t know why, or where it’s coming from, but he says it at least twice a day. It feels nice, yeah, but… why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe he had daddy issues,” Dot smirked, and Buddy wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I’m just joking. Unless….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unless?” Buddy prompted, indulging her in her detective noir shenanigans. “Unless what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked at him, lips pursed and brows drawn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> does have daddy issues?” she questioned, more to the air than to Buddy. “Think about it. He never talks about his family, and he is in a business that’s not considered too, well, too glamorous. No offence.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“None taken,” he replied, then waved a hand to continue her on. She sat on his desk, earning an indignant noise from him. “Come on!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But seriously. What if that’s it?” she pressured. “Go ask him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go ask him!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No way!” he replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Drew, do you have problems with your dad?” Buddy asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey stared at him and burst into peals of laughter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is this about me being proud of you?” he queried, hitting the nail on the head. Buddy sheepishly nodded. “Well, frankly, yes. But I’d still be proud of you, no matter what. Because I am. Because you’re a great kid. I’m proud of you, Daniel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Buddy hugged him tightly, thankful to have such a good dad.</span>
</p>
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